


And the Stars Belong To Us

by WindySuspirations



Series: Oakmoss and Elderflower [4]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anal Play, Blow Jobs, Cullen Rutherford Smut, F/M, Heterosexual Sex, Prostate Massage, Taking Care Of Cullen, add-on to completed story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-17 14:41:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12367938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WindySuspirations/pseuds/WindySuspirations
Summary: Eala treats Cullen to a night he won't forget.





	And the Stars Belong To Us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tx2](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tx2/gifts).



> This short (and very smutty) fic is in response to a comment I received on my longer work, [Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, and Thyme.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11376066) They wanted to know if Eala ever gave Cullen Le Petit Mort. Well, here's your answer. :) I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Comments and kudos are always welcome — we writers are an insecure lot, so feedback is essential in keeping us going. I always try to respond to every comment, and it's so much appreciated. It really is!

“Cullen?”

“Mm?”

“Are you still awake?”

He chuckles into his pillow. “Barely after that relaxing massage,” he says, deftly flipping over without dislodging his wife who is straddling his hips. He gives her a crooked grin and lifts a hand to brush back the strands of her black curly hair that tumble over her shoulders. “Maker, you’re lovely.”

She returns his grin, her soft brown eyes sparkling as she leans down to kiss him. One hand wraps the back of her skull, buried in her thick hair while the other trails down her delectable back to caress her ample ass. He sinks into the kiss, losing himself in her heady taste. Her hands come up to cup his face as their tongues meet and explore each other’s mouths.  

“Mmm,” he hums as he draws away from her, “are you by chance trying to tell me something, minx?”

She sits back and trails a finger down his chest. “I hope you aren’t too tired, Commander, because there are _things_ I want to do to you.”  She leans over to pull a bottle of oil out of the drawer in the nightstand, and he raises an eyebrow in question.  She just snickers, palming the bottle as she sits on her haunches, her grin turning wicked.

“I’m never too tired for you, love,”  he lays back and crosses his arms behind his head, “I am at your disposal, my lady.” A throaty chuckle, the likes of which he has never heard from her before rolls out of her as her eyes travel up and down his body. The sexy sound goes right to his cock; It twitches in anticipation.

“Good.” 

Eala starts kissing him, starting at his lips and going lower, down his chin and throat. At his chest, she pauses to spend time on his sensitive nipples, drawing a long hiss from him as she takes each one between her teeth. He raises an arm to caress the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her hair, as she continues her journey down the ridges of his abdomen,  soft butterfly kisses sparking his nerves as she moves lower.

Each caress of her lips on his flesh makes his skin tingle as his blood heats, and his entire body starts to quiver with expectation as she finally reaches his already stiff cock.  He groans as her mouth envelops him, sinking all the way to the base and back up to the tip. She hums as she goes down, making his entire being vibrate with pleasure. She holds herself there and continues humming, varying the pitch of her voice.

“Maker,  that feels — amazing,” his voice quavers with need. He concentrates on keeping his hips still even though he wants to rock them up and down, wants to fuck her mouth.  Sweat breaks out all over his body as she cups his sac and lovingly fingers his balls. He’s sure he must be dead, and she is his reward from the Maker.

The sound of her popping off the cork on the bottle of oil echoes off the stone walls of the tower. She’s managed removing it without taking her mouth off his cock; she keeps sucking him, dragging her tongue up his shaft, making sure to swipe it against the sensitive underside of the head. He groans and thrashes his head back and forth on his pillow, his breath coming out in stuttered gasps.

Then, one of her amazing hands, the hands she uses to heal him and relieve his tension and pain, caresses his balls and slides back over his perineum to circle his anus. Stars explode behind his eyelids; Maker, she remembers what he told her about — what he likes.  He opens his eyes to look down at her. She’s so beautiful, with her dark curls spread around his hips and her pink lips wrapped around him. She looks up at him, and brown eyes meet gold. Her love for him shines there, and he can’t believe what a lucky man he is to have her as his wife.

“Sweet Maker,” he breathes, “you’re — you’re —ah!”  she breaches him with one finger up to her first knuckle. “That’s — oh, sweetling, that’s so fucking good. Go deeper,” he urges, clutching at the back of her head. Eala slides her finger in deeper, up to the second knuckle, but it’s not enough. No, not enough — he needs more. “Deeper,” he growls, and finally her entire finger is inside him, and he lets out a long moan, his entire body trembling.

She’s moving her finger now, in time with the strokes of her mouth on his cock. It’s heaven and the Void at the same time, and he can’t think for all of the sensations happening in his body. Her finger glances over that special spot and warmth floods his lower body; it’s like he’s sitting in a hot bath. She hits it again, and waves of pleasure start radiating out from his groin. He feels it on his cock, but it’s more than that; it’s everywhere.

Streams of clear fluid are pouring from his cockhead; she sucks and licks most of it up, but there’s too much, and it coats his shaft, mixing with her saliva. It dribbles down into his pubic hair, making a tacky mess, but he doesn’t give a fuck. It feels exquisite, and he doesn’t want it to end. He reaches down and pulls her hair back out of the way as she continues to suck him and work her finger back and forth in his ass. With every pass, the ecstasy builds and builds until —

“Fuck!” he cries out, because he’s coming, and there’s nothing he can do about it. It hits him like a blast of electricity from a storm Mage, lighting him up from the inside out. He luxuriates in the smoothness of the sheets at his back and the cool breeze from the hole in his roof ghosting over his too-hot flesh; the warmth of her mouth on him and the press of her small finger inside him. He’s so very present for every tingle, every shiver, every hitching breath.Yet, he sees it all too as if he’s floating above their bed; him lying spread-eagled on the mattress, her kneeling between his legs, her dark skin contrasting with his, looking sexy and divine in the candlelit coziness of the loft.

Then his eyes roll back in his head, and his vision goes white; his mind fades away into nothing.

When his senses return, it’s to soft kisses, warm caresses, and the lovely face of his wife beaming down at him. Her smile has a bit of smugness to it, which he is glad to see. His shy little healer has quite blossomed out of her shell into a confident woman who knows her own worth.

He raises an eyebrow,  the corners of his mouth turning up in a teasing smirk. “Proud of yourself, are you, love?”

She shines with happiness,  her white teeth flashing against her gorgeous skin and her eyes bright. “Very,” she blows on her fingernails and mimes buffing them on her naked chest. “I gave the great Commander of the Inquisition, former Knight-Captain of Kirkwall, Le Petit Mort!”

Laughter shakes his chest as he tugs her down into his embrace. He places a kiss on her forehead and hugs her close. “That you did, love. That you did.”


End file.
